


Perfection

by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Cuddling and Snuggling, Exploration, Intimacy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_sprinkles/pseuds/Lemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renly promised himself that he’d find a flaw on Loras—he’d search for it in order to convince himself once more that perfection could not exist in Westeros, realizing that notions of believing life was but a song would only cause him trouble and heartache in the future. Sometimes it was better to not live in a fantasy, he thought, and that Loras had to have some faults—some imperfections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection

 Renly remembered the songs and tales he’d heard a child. Beautiful maids, ghastly monsters, enemy to defeat and a kingdom to win, all meant to inspire small girls and boys alike. They were fantastical in nature, with the lyrics flowing and the music catching the emotions perfectly. And of course in every tale there was the hero—the man who would swoop in at the end to save the maid, slay the beast and defend the kingdom. Idealistic, true, but entirely captivating, drawing the person in like a moth to a flame.

 Renly recalled his favourite story featured a young knight on a journey through dangerous lands in search of his father’s ancestral home. Renly had gone to bed as a young boy, hoping to dream about the knight and wishing he could meet him in those dreams. He knew he wasn’t real, that he never existed and was merely a fabrication of the writer’s imagination, but that was why he hoped to meet him in his dreams; a place where reality met imagination, where fictional characters walked alongside you in a manner that felt so real you sometimes woke believing for a moment that it had happened. The knight was described as being young and handsome, his hair honey brown and his eyes bright hazel. His armour was engraved with wild animals and plants, a forestry scene on the breast while vines and roses spiraled out along the arms and legs. And he had a magical sword that could guide him through the darkest parts of his journey, lighting the way and casting the shadows and fears away with a single glimmer.

 The knight had named it ‘Hope’.

 Of course, when Renly grew older he lost that sense of awe surrounding that mythical knight realizing men like him did not exist. He only wandered the forests in his dreams, and even then he would visit Renly less and less as he grew older himself, that childlike wonder leaving, instead being replaced by a shrewd understanding of what the world was really like. Politics and scheming replaced chivalry and honesty, while simply courtesies were begrudgingly seen to as a matter of principal. Nothing that was offered that did not come with a price, and instead of the handsome knight atop the horse, there sat Jaime Lannister and Gregore Clegane.

 Renly had become disillusioned when he was truly exposed to the adult world, and he didn’t think he’d ever get that almost fantastical world back—not fully.

 But then he met his squire.

 Loras still lived in that world where chivalry was not just a concept but a way of life. Where courtesy was to be displayed not because it was expected of him, but because he wanted to please the person he was conversing with. He smiled at every lady who turned their attention to him, gave flowers and small tokens of appreciation to even the homeliest of girls, and would converse with any man who approached him. He was, of course, arrogant beyond belief, and a smug satisfaction loomed over-top most of his actions, but the fact remained; Loras truly believed that knights were meant for a greater good, not for corruption and degenerate behaviour. He never visited the whore houses with the other men, never drank to excess and never made a fool of himself.

 And just as Renly thought he’d lost that sense of wonder and enchantment, the knight from the tales appeared to him in reality, grabbed his hand, and lead him through the forest, his sword held high as they avoided both the dangers of the forest and of the courts; the snake-pits and quicksand, the gossip and the feuds, the dragons and grayscale folks, and the political backstabbing and manipulative mind-games.

 Loras even looked every bit as how he imagined the knight in the stories to appear. Every piece of him was beautiful—perfect, a sight to behold. The first time he had seen Loras completely nude in front of him, Renly lost his breath for a moment, senses flooded by the sight before him. Soft, smooth skin, unspoiled and flawless; his limbs long and lithe, power hidden behind every move; and his demeanor roared of sensuality and untapped sexuality as he approached him, desire in his eyes as they embraced for the first time.

 Renly had promised himself that he’d find a flaw on Loras—he’d search for it in order to convince himself once more that perfection could not exist in Westeros, realizing that notions of believing life was but a song would only cause him trouble and heartache in the future. Sometimes it was better to not live in a fantasy, he thought, and that Loras had to have some faults—some imperfections.

 But as he looked for them, he realized that those personal quirks that he had—his slight temper and his arrogance—were just another facet of what made Loras who he was. And Loras was perfect, regardless.

 So he changed his mission slightly, and took it upon himself to find some sort of imperfection on his body—a physical part of him that Renly could look at and be reminded that Loras was not a flawless little god, sent down to tempt Renly and bring about his downfall. One night, after their passions had been spent and the luxury to relax had been granted, Renly began his careful exploration of his lover’s body.

 He started at Loras’ toes. Sitting on the end of the bed, he picked his foot up, cupping the heel in his hand, and counted. Five toes on the left and five on the right—all the right length, nothing strange about them, save for perhaps the realization that Loras would curls his toes whenever he brushed the arch of his foot. He was ticklish—but that wasn’t an imperfection. Even his heel was smooth and soft, no hard callouses on them from working on the training grounds wearing rough, sturdy boots. Loras told him that he scrubbed them with a porous stone during his baths, working the skin off that didn’t need to be there. Renly tucked that bit of information away, and kissed his ankle before continuing his exploration, Loras lying patiently on the bed, curiosity in his large hazel eyes.

 Sliding his hands up his calf, Renly felt the strong muscles and soft hairs move against his palms, the hair almost invisible in the low light from the fire, lighter in colour than the curls on his head. When he reached his knee, Loras let out another soft puff of laughter, rich and innocent as Renly’s fingers tickled the underside of his knees, the soft, smooth skin providing ample room for teasing. Loras was a sensitive man physically—Renly knew this—but he didn’t know he was so ticklish.

 Again, only endearing, not an imperfection.

 His knee was nothing unique—perhaps a little bony, but it wasn’t as if Renly often stared at other men’s knees to compare. Shifting, Renly moved from his spot at the end, and went to rest on his side beside Loras, elbow propping him up at Loras’ waist as his hand skirted up Loras’ thigh, caressing the smooth, warm skin with ease. Loras moved, then, a small shift to the side as he spread his legs a little and let Renly pet the skin of his inner thigh. Again, strong muscles and unmarred skin was laid out before him, a delight to stroke and perfect in every way.

 Moving again, Renly rolled on top of Loras’ leg, elbow still braced on the bed and arm pressed against Loras’ sharp hip (also perfect in every way; a hard, masculine angle—no soft curves on him) as he stared at his groin. Loras made a soft sound of curiosity as Renly rested his chin on his hand and, with his free hand, ran through the course, dark curls at the base of his prick. Renly just send Loras a cheeky smile, and resumed his exploration, ignoring the bemused expression he received in return. Loras’ cock and balls were, in Renly’s opinion, perfect. One testicle was slightly lower than the other, but they were round and pert, the skin relaxed at the moment as they recovered from the orgasm only half of an hour ago. His cock was not as thick as Renly’s own, but it was long and smooth, the foreskin like velvet under his hand. When aroused, the pink head would peak through the skin, glistening as precum beaded up, tempting him and driving him wild with lust. Renly found it almost impossible to resist applying a kiss to Loras’ prick at that moment, and he did so, making his lover laugh, a hint of desire lurking below the jovial sound as his cock twitched slightly.

 Renly ignored the flicker of arousal, however, and once again resumed his quest to find that imperfection—that fabled blemish. Rolling off of his leg, Renly scooted up so he was now lying side by side with Loras, attention locked on where his hand was slowly trailing up the smooth planes of his stomach, while Loras watched Renly’s expression carefully, stretched out comfortable amongst the furs and pillows. Loras’ stomach was flat and tight, strong muscles flexing as he shuddered under the easy, explorative movements of Renly. His hand continued to move up the soft skin before stopping at a nipple. It was a dusty pink, the nub hardening as Renly rubbed his thumb around the areola. There was a small hitching of breath, and Renly broke out into a lazy grin, amused at how sensitive his nipples were. He had never really paid much attention to that part of his body during sexual arousal, but Loras seemed to appreciate it, and Renly would kiss them and suck them, relishing in the sounds his lover would make as he squirmed below.

 Renly did not tease him this time, however, and left that part of his body well enough alone, fingers moving up his sternum before venturing along the sharp collarbone. The skin was once again perfect and smooth as he slid from the center to the shoulder, ending on the bone that jutted out between strong muscular shoulders and neck. Lying back on the bed, he grabbed Loras’ hand and held it up in front of him, fingers stretching out in their own accord, the canopy of Renly’s bed serving as a backdrop. Loras’ fingers were thin and long—delicate, almost. The bone of his wrist stuck out slightly, pressing against the flesh, and Renly ran his thumb along it, feeling the tendons move as Loras squeezed his hand shut and opened it again. There were callouses on his hands, but it was just a reminder of his work and dedication, and of his new knighthood status. It wasn’t an imperfection at all in Renly’s eyes, and he brought his hand down and kissed the tip of each finger before Loras caught his own in a tight grip and squeezed before letting go. Sitting up, Renly gave Loras his hand back and shifted so he was resting on top of Loras, elbows braced beside his head, fingers coursing through his thick curls, attention completely caught up on the way the light bounced off  of the strands, making him look more blonde than brunette. His hair was so soft and full, and Renly enjoyed how Loras would tilt his head into the petting, like a cat seeking more affection. Trailing a fingertip down and along his temple, he framed Loras’ face, dragging his finger along his jaw and chin, the sharp jawline straight and angled at just the right places, before he stopped at the other temple, and finally allowed himself the time to admire the beautiful face before him.

 Large hazel eyes framed by thick dark lashes stared up at him, love and adoration seeping through the golden green hues. Loras had a small beauty spot (or so the ladies called it) at the corner of his left eye, and Renly stared at, finding it rested in such a perfect spot on his face—subtle, but a little quirk on his seemingly unblemished skin. Loras’ nose was straight and long, a slightly curve upward at the end, and Renly followed the lines down to his lips. Pink and wet from the tongue that had peeked out to run along the bottom, Loras’ lips were full and sensual, both smiles and grimaces worn equally well on them.

 Moving in, he kissed those lips with languid ease, both of them enjoying the embrace, Loras’ long fingers tangling in his hair as they shared breath. Eventually Renly pulled away, and got off of Loras only to flip him over, Loras making a few disgruntled sounds but going along with the motion regardless. Lying on his stomach, Loras hugged a pillow, cheek pressed against it as Renly resumed his careful, deliberate exploration, looking for that mar or blemish.

 Straddling his waist, Renly ran his hands down strong shoulder blades, before meeting in the center where his spine could be felt through the dip between the blades. Feeling each press of the spine against the skin, Renly took his time, running his finger up and down, up and down, and up and down once more before moving to bestride Loras’ perfect thighs. Fingers pressing against the lower hollow of Loras’ spine, he ended at the tip of his tailbone. Loras instinctively arched into the touch, making Renly chuckle softly as his body reacted strongly to the simple touches. Palms running along the smooth expanse of his rump, he admired his lover’s behind. Firm and supple, soft and warm, Loras’ ass was one of Renly’s favourite things. Rubbing and kneading the flesh, he took his time with it, finding nothing at all wrong with it in any way.

 His attention, however, quickly drew to a group of three dark freckles on his waistline. Loras turned his head and looked over his shoulder when Renly moved down to closer inspect it, and he began asking questions as Renly grinned and kissed the little cloister of freckles.

Loras asked why he was smiling, and Renly shrugged, slid off of him, and let his lover roll over so he was once again on his back. He was immediately dragged into a tight embrace, their legs tangling as Renly rubbed their noses together and held him close. Loras ran his hand through Renly’s hair, catching on a knot. He asked again why Renly was smiling, and Renly just kissed him before lifting his head to state:

 “Three is an imperfect number.”


End file.
